


You Might Really Be Psychic

by flouridation



Category: Psych
Genre: I wrote this FIVE years ago and just edited it tonight so it's raw and real for y'all, It's a little aggressive, M/M, but it gets the job done, shassie 4 lyfe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 01:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flouridation/pseuds/flouridation
Summary: Carlton Lassiter is having a rough day. Shawn Spencer is about to have a rough life.





	You Might Really Be Psychic

It was an average day in Head Detective Lassiter’s somewhat crappy life. Paperwork and pencil points, always meeting one another. It was an intricate dance they did under his fingers, a delicate struggle between boredom and exhaustion, none of which Lassiter would trade for the world. Somewhat crappy it may be, but it was his and he liked it the way it was. Okay, maybe he didn’t feel one hundred percent fulfilled all the time. Maybe he sometimes had feelings of aspiration beyond his considerable professional success. Fleeting thoughts, and yet he had the damnedest time shaking them. He wanted things. Well, one thing in particular. But that could never happen, that would never happen, he shouldn’t even th—

"LAAAAASSIIEE!" Spencer's distinctive voice made Lassiter snap his pencil point in his startle as it rang through the police station. He froze for an instant, weighing his options as if he were under fire. Should he risk it and attend to Spencer’s whims and maybe earn a few hours’ peace for his troubles? Or should he go the safe route and ignore him at all costs? 

Lassiter may have been willing to put his life on the line in many professional situations; he was dauntless and unflinching when it came to civil service. But, in his personal life, Carlton Lassiter was not a risk-taker. 

Spencer was rounding the corner and bounding up to his desk like an excited puppy. “Hey man, how’s it going? You look great! Is that a new stiff-collared starchy white shirt? Very enticing, shows off your birdliness in a very striking fashion.” He was teasing him.  _ Crap, what’s he going on about now?  _ But Lassiter wasn’t going to rise.  _ Just ignore it, just... IGNORE it. _ No good, Shawn had planted both his hands on Lassiter's desk. "While I’m here can I maybe I borrow you for a sec to talk about something that has recently been brought to my attention?" 

Lassiter started cranking his pencil sharpener as loud and fast as he could, masking a tiny flash of panic. And he didn’t panic easily. At least, not in his entire life that existed outside of his contact with Shawn Spencer. 

"Oh, come on. Don't you at least care a teeny bit what I have to say?" 

Lassiter kept cranking his pencil sharpener. 

"Well, fine." Shawn pouted, then sang, "You called me 'Deteeec-tive’..." Lassiter froze. Why the hell was he bringing up something that he’d  _ almost _ managed to repress? He had some nerve in him, that was for sure. 

"That was a professional courtesy, you idiot. Don't you and Guster have some ridiculous venture to pursue in order to make my life miserable?" Lassiter fussed, once again determinedly staring at his paperwork, scratching with the newly razor-sharp pencil. He really could not be bothered with the young "detective"'s antics today. He had a stack of paperwork three feet high and no plans that evening except from finishing it. Shawn was always a distraction, and, well, not just because he was loud and ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that his partner couldn't go ten minutes without him hitting on her. Whether they were a couple at that moment or not. 

Lassiter would never admit, even to himself, why Shawn irritated him beyond human belief. Especially when he was chatting up O'Hara. There were lots of things he would never admit, come to think of it. Like how shocked, hurt, and even jealous he had felt when Shawn had said, while hooked up to a polygraph machine, that he loved O'Hara.  _ Stupid machine _ . He was still convinced the piece of junk was defective. 

"Aww, what's wrong, Lassiefrass? Did I embarrass Head Detective Pricklypants when I mentioned something that happened YEARS ago?" 

"Dammit, Spencer..." Lassiter growled as his pencil point snapped yet again. "Don't you have someone else to annoy? Guster? O'Hara? Henry?" 

"Actually they're all sick and tired of me for today. So, how are you?" He asked, sitting down in an extra swivel chair next to Lassiter. 

"I was great, before you got here." He grumbled.  _ Screw it, I’m already engaging with him. Better to just settle in for the ride.  _ He sighed. “Alright, fine. Did you have anything else to tell me?" 

"Nothing in particular, but I brought you something..." Shawn placed a pineapple with a red bow on Lassiter's desk. Lassiter was immediately suspicious. 

“You brought me a gift.”  _ What the hell is this quack up to today?  _ This was not normal Spencerian behavior. Something was up. 

"Just an icebreaker. I thought we might need one.” 

“Why?” Lassiter frowned, even more suspicious.    
  


“I’ve had some seriously strong vibrations coming from THIS room," Shawn emphasized that by pointing at the floor with both hands. 

"Lassie, THIS room, which contains YOU. These are strong, tingly vibes, Lassie." Okay, that was enough; Lassiter didn’t have time to listen to Spencer’s “tingles” today. 

"Spencer, get the hell out of my office." Lassiter said, resuming his paperwork. 

"No." Shawn said simply, reclining on the swivel chair. 

"Excuse me?" 

Shawn ignored him and started ticking off points on his fingers. 

"Seven years ago, you bought my bike when it was about to be auctioned off," 

"You can't know that was me!" Lassiter protested, realizing instantly that that was incriminating. "That could have been anyone," he mumbled, desperate not to come out the loser in this conversation. It had, in fact, been him. But he didn’t think Spencer would ever find out. He wasn’t meant to find out. There was no way he could know for sure anyway. “What evidence to you have to support this claim?” 

Shawn raised a finger to his temple rhetorically. 

"Don't give me that crap." 

"Anyway," Shawn persisted, still ticking. "I appear to make your life miserable, yet when I'm in danger you always seem terrified for my safety.” 

"Do you have any idea how much paperwork I would have to fill out if you died on my case?" Lassiter gestured to his pile of paperwork, completely forgetting his "Ignore Spencer at All Costs" policy by now and just fighting for his life. In fact, Shawn was doing a much better job of ignoring him. 

“You were scared to death when that building I was in exploded, and don't pretend you weren't because I could see you!" 

"I was startled, it's a normal, healthy reaction!"

Shawn rolled his chair until he was poised across from Lassiter, looking him dead in the eyes.  _ Damn _ , his eyes were green. “People don't stay startled for half an hour. Anyway, you looked worse than Jules. Seriously, I even got a little worried about you.” 

“Well thank you for your concern,” Lassiter snarked. Shawn ignored him again. 

“Then there was the whole polygraph machine episode. It drives you crazy that I said I love Juliet." 

"I care for my partner." Lassiter put down his pencil. "Where are you going with this?" 

"Then, of course, when I took a bullet and got kidnapped, guess who was leading the search." 

"Henry Spencer and myself. I'm Head Detective, what does this have to do with anything?" Lassiter was starting to feel and look distinctly uncomfortable. This was going a direction he did not like, and he felt like he was losing control of it every second. 

"And, again, you called me detective. You looked me in the eye and said, 'Nice shooting, detective.'" 

"That was a professional courtesy! It was and you know it!" This was entirely untrue and Lassiter knew it. 

"Oh, and um," Shawn leaned in close. "Jules told me what you said last Saturday night. It all comes together. These vibes finally make sense!” 

"That statement was made under heavy influence of alcohol!" Which was true. 

Well, okay, it was one drink. On a rough day. A rough day during which Lassiter may have confided in Juliet in his "drunken stupor,” as he had assured himself it was, and possibly told her that Spencer's antics had captivated him from the first day they met. And possibly revealed why this was so, and why he could not tell anyone. Why he told her, of all people, he would never fathom for the rest of his days. He should have seen this coming.  _ Damn it. Damn it!  _

"Yeah, sure." Shawn reclined on the wheeled chair. Lassiter, in a final desperate attempt at blocking Shawn out, picked up his pencil again and stabbed it into the paper, and it snapped in his fingers. His tendons were white and pressing against his skin so hard it looked like they might snap. “Listen, Carlton,” Lassiter flinched at so suddenly hearing his first name. “I need you to know this. I know.” 

“You know,” Lassiter deadpanned. 

“I know.” 

“You know,” he repeated, ignoring the sudden tremor in his voice. Shawn simply nodded, leaning in close, elbows resting on the front side of Lassiter’s desk. And suddenly his voice was very quiet. 

"Well, Lassie, looks like I've run out of steam, so I'm just going to go on and keep on talking, talking, talking, if that's okay, unless of course you'd like to contribute, in which case please do so. So anyway, I was eating this burrito the other day and it had, like, provolone in it, nasty stuff, I have no idea what possessed them to—“ and then the final pencil point snapped, and it was Lassiter himself. 

"Shut up!" He exclaimed, standing up and pushing his chair away from Shawn, towering over him with a menacing glare. "Shut up for one goddamn second, Spencer!” 

Shawn froze, clearly shocked at such a sudden outburst. Lassiter steamrolled on, the words a frantic rush, an avalanche he could not stop. 

“Okay! I'll admit it! You've been right about me since the first day we met, and you're right now! I'm in love with you! Are you happy? I’m in love with you! I have been for years, and I'm starting to think you might really be psychic because you know exactly what to say to drive me insane!" 

Shawn looked utterly taken aback. He must not have expected such a forthright confession. But taken aback was nothing compared to the expression on his face when Lassiter leaned across the desk and kissed him. And  _ he  _ was the first one to pull away. Maybe it was shock, but he hadn’t put up any resistance. It set Lassiter’s heart racing, looking at him in the aftermath. Spencer was absolutely gobsmacked. Lassiter was appalled. 

"Oh my god." He covered his mouth with his hand. "Okay, that did not happen, that did not happen! No one outside of this room saw it and no one will ever know what just transpired here today!" 

"Um, that might be a little bit difficult." Shawn nodded to the glass wall of the office, and Gus smiled and waved awkwardly through the blinds, mouthing  _ hello. _

"Alright, look." Lassiter fixed his eyes on Shawn. "I am hereby swearing you both to secrecy. I’ve built a life and reputation for myself, I present myself to the world in accordance with a certain image. No one except you, Guster, and myself are to know what just happened and in fact we are all going to forget it and pretend it never happened! And now I am going to get the hell out of here, understand?" He was shaking as he fumbled for his belongings. 

"Gotcha." Shawn nodded with a shaky inhale, looking uncharacteristically serious. Lassiter picked up his briefcase and ran. 

Shawn stood up and exited the office, then skipped up to Gus. “Yo what the  _ hell _ just happened?” 

"You got to first base." Gus raised his hand for a fist bump. 

"Come on, it wasn't my plan." Shawn protested but returned the fist bump. 

Gus laughed. "So what was your plan?" 

Shawn shrugged. "I dunno, second, maybe third..." He burst into laughter. "Okay, fine. Honestly I don't know what I was expecting. But not  _ that _ , I mean,  _ damn!  _ He’s got a short fuse and a lot of passion built into that giant scarecrow body.” 

Gus just shook his head and tutted. Then he paused. “I noticed you didn’t pull away.” 

Shawn looked at him blankly. 

“I’m just saying,” Gus said, putting up his hands defensively. 

"Are you asking if I liked it?" 

"What?" Gus asked, trying to fake a scoff. "No, of course not." Another pause. "Did you?" 

"What? No... I mean…” he whined. “Guh, screw it. I’m only a liar by profession now.” 

"We telling Juliet about this though?” 

"Hell no. Lassie swore us both to secrecy. Bro code. And, just, no." He winced, biting his lip. 

"That new honesty policy is really working out, huh?" 

"Like me on the elliptical." They exchanged another shamefaced fist bump and strolled out of the police station together. 


End file.
